The Bongo

What do Koreans do when their Hyundai vans are too old to use? They ship them to Sudan, we’re going there soon. Of course, they pimp them first with some fake chrome details, put a reinforced bumper in the front, a luggage railing on top and a ladder in the back. The Sudanese like to have their luggage on the roof when they bump into each other. They are real pieces of shit cars, leaking oil and smelling of garlic. Some of them don’t even run. But there is a special Hyundai van called “Bongo Frontier II”. Can you understand this? I mean, really, understand it? Bongo Frontier Two !!!
That’s no ordinary Bongo. 
It’s the very forefront, the edge of Bongo, the Bongo Frontier. And it’s model two which must mean they’ve reached the front of Bongo and gone further, further into unknown Bongo, pushing the very limit, walking, balancing the Bongo edge. One step too far and there’s just too much Bongo, one step back and it’s hardly even Bongo anymore. On top of that this van was made in 1999. Imagine the level of Bongo they must now have reached! Do you think you and I will ever live to see Bongo of that magnitude? I think not. But we can dream. Dream of Bongo.

Going ashore in Kobe, Rokko Island, was nice. The place is rebuilt since The Great Hanshin Earthquake destroyed most of it back in 1995. All the residential buildings look like hotels and the parks look very artificial. But nice. We found a big department store. I wanted to buy a hat as usual but I couldn’t find any good ones. They all fade in the shadow of the hat I’m wearing now. 
Something happened to my friend and colleague, the third officer. He drank some weird seaweed tea. We had a lot of traffic on our watch tonight and he didn’t seem even bothered. Usually he swears at other vessels. Not this time. He simply navigated thru the mess and went on and on about the tea. He worried he wouldn’t be able to “score” anymore “weed drink” and kept shuddering and looking worried. I’m concerned.

Papa-san returned in Kobe as well. Not the same papa-san but I’ve recently learned that papa-san is more a concept than an actual person. He comes in many forms. This one actually had ninja swords. Real badass ones too. But I realized it might be a problem to bring it on the plane home. I also had flashbacks of the Hobbex-catalogue from when I was a kid. You could buy all kinds of sexy interior design items in there, such as spinning ceiling fans, ninja swords and beer glasses in the shape of a boot. I think it’s not for me. Besides I would probably break a lamp swinging it. But I did buy a Casio watch for 3000 yen. 

The enemy

Do you remember that Southpark episode about Russell Crowe? The one where he fights everyone. I’ve managed to stick that little theme song in the 3rd officers head. “Makin’ movies, makin’ songs and foytin’ ‘round the woourld!” I’m on watch with the 3rd officer right now and it’s great fun. He doesn’t care much for the local fishermen, he calls them “the enemy”, but all in all he’s a very nice guy. We try to communicate as much as possible using Chinese English. If we have an accident, the people listening to the recordings on the VDR(Voice Data Recorder) are going to wonder if we’re drunk. 

I just thought of a funny sketch. Right, picture this. A Korean guy, right…..singing Coldplay covers. “a rushhh of brood toode heeeead”. Well I think it’s funny, so there. I’ve had some complaints on my English impersonations. It seems people don’t think asians can say the letter ‘R’ but that is false. They can say it just fine, just not always when it should be said. You see, sometimes they mix the ‘L’s and the ‘R’s up. Like this:
“This is Korean Navy, how do you read me, over?” 
becomes
“Dis Koreanavy, how do you lleadah me, ovah?”
and 
“Arrange pilot ladder starboard side 2 meters above water”
becomes
“Allange pierott raddah staahboh sai two metah a-buhh-watah”

Yesterday we received a man overboard distress call on the MF/HF from far, far away. It’s the old school type radio and it doesn’t work very well. You are supposed to get a short text message and then be able to connect to a frequency for audio, but 95% of all messages received are “Error in call” and you can’t hear anything when connecting. And people don’t know how to use it. Yesterday we received distress calls, distress forwards and distress acknowledgments every 30 seconds for over an hour. And some tech guy had been onboard and raised the volume on the alarm signal. My finger hurts from pressing the “ignore” button.

It’s spelled “Incheon”, I apologize. Actually the correct spelling is a lot more complicated than that involving some serious Korean spelling from the actual Korean language but I don’t have access to that so this will have to do. I like Incheon because the downtown area is very close to the port. We took a walk today and saw the fish market, the foppa-toffel market and the bright-pink-women’s-clothing-market. I took the opportunity to flirt with some teenage girls of course. They were on some kind of school trip outside a big catholic church. We also met a real sweet, very talkative, catholic nun, who wanted to know where we were from and how religious people were there. She said maybe so much as 10% of the population in South Korea are Catholics but most of them are a little Buddhist on the side. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was an atheist, she was really sweet.Speaking of nuns, you’re all gonna wanna have sex with me now because I bought the coolest hat. It’s the kind of hat that makes women swoon. I could get Princess Madeleine with this hat, no problem. This hat is so cool, I can wear it naked and no one will notice. My hat could solve the Israel-Palestine conflict. My hat is the destroyer of worlds. I out-hat even the Burtest of Reynolds. In short, it’s a really cool hat. I also bought some refreshments as seen on the picture. After last times green tea fiasco in Japan I decided to take a safer route and go with the grapefruit thing on the right, but then I got bored with myself and decided to also purchase the green bottle in the middle. I have no idea what it is, I haven’t tasted it yet, but it says “fresh 500” on the label. I find that very comforting. I also bought some cookies. 

The Sludge

We're on our way to Inchon right next to Seoul, good Korea. A few nautical miles to the north is the bad Korea where Mr Ill rules. Yesterday we met the USNS Effective. You gotta hand it to the americans, they know how to name their navy ships.

The satellite phone rings. The 3rd officer and the captain look at each other, a knowing look, and say in chorus “I ain’t pickin’ that up!”. Experienced as they are, they know better. Answering the phone might lead them to talk to some Chinese person, let’s say a sales rep from some sludge company or something of that nature (“sludge”, for those who don’t know, is leftovers after the good stuff has been separated from the Heavy Fuel Oil, the good stuff goes into the engine and makes it go, I think, and the sludge goes into a tank until pumped ashore). “Gunnar, can you get that?” Guess what, it turns out it’s a sales rep from the local sludge company in Shanghai.

“-Herroh, dis “%&3?+½§¤&¤” caarring from Shanghai Srudge coppanee, you want discharge srudge, yes?”
After 4 calls and some minor communication failures we establish that he wants some stuff faxed to him and I have to do it. I know now why it’s never a good idea to answer the phone.

Chinese pilots. There’s a thing worth mentioning. 2 pilots with 2 portable VHFs each covering 4 channels. In order to hear everything being said on all channels they max the volume. That, plus them screaming rudder angles in my ear. STAAABOOOH FAJJJ! (starboard five). 
The wind picked up slightly when we left the berth and this ship is practically a sailboat, she’s very sensitive to wind. When the pilot realize we are going sideways instead of forward, he got a little exited and raised his voice slightly. All his pilot friends on the other vessels picked up on it and took it up a notch too. The whole operation was silly. 

The captain on this ship is really cool, a bit too cool perhaps. I sort of wish he would be one of those badass police captains that scream at you for accidentally blowing up that warehouse but secretly respecting you for being the only straight cop on the force, dammit. He might be that captain, maybe I just haven’t pissed him off enough! Hmmm….I did do something slightly stupid today and he let me know. But it was more like a “don’t do that again.” than a “Goddamit, you’re outta control! Turn in your piece and shield!” Maybe next time.

On another note, who the fuck carbonates apple juice? The fucking Germans is who. It’s called Apollinaris – Big Apple, The queen of table waters. Yeah that’s right, they even claim on the bottle it’s not actually carbonated apple juice but apple flavored mineral water. But that’s just a goddam lie, now isn’t it? I tell ya, this pisses me off to no end. I suspect I may need sleep.

The Burt

My metabolism is changing, I can feel it. And I see it too. It appears I now have a spare chin right behind the original one. Just in case the original should malfunction or something, I don’t know. Can you see it there in the picture? Of course you can, it’s practically covering half the picture. I worry about it, you know. I worry that if that extra chin grows any more in size it might gain consciousness, realize that I am a threat to its existence, and try to take over my face! A Skynet scenario basically.
There’s a three letter word for my condition. The problem here is that the work is hard half the time, and easy-peasy the rest. But the calories consumed remain constant. I don’t know what to do about it either since the food is fucking delicious and there’s dessert every other day. And then there’s the candy, beer and coke(no, not the stripper-tits kind). I am trying not to enjoy life, but it’s so hard. 

We have onboard a VHF, a radio communication device we use to contact other stations and vessels to ensure safe navigation. How does it work, you ask? Have you ever seen the movie “Smokey and the Bandit”? It’s kind of like that, except I don’t have the awesome Burt Reynolds mustache. (No one does.) But it works the same way. You press the button and talk. Channel 16 on the VHF is reserved for two things, initial contact and emergencies, and all navigators are obligated to monitor this channel in case someone should need help. In this part of the world there is a somewhat lack of respect for these rules however. They sing. On channel 16. I can confirm the torture method of playing horrible music hours on end like they did to the inmates at Guantanamo. You lose it after a while. And there’s a guy imitating a frog. If I ever get my hands on that little shit-stain I’ll end his life using only a blender and a rusty spoon.

There are hundreds and hundreds of dead dragonflies on deck which further strengthens my theory that the Yellow Sea is not a sea at all but a swamp.

The Jinkuk

When I was a kid I liked watching the snow plow. That’s not the whole truth. I still like watching the snow plow. The clearing of snow, the creating order from chaos, there is something about it that pleases me greatly. Its twisted, I know, but I can watch it for hours. I get the same feeling, only milder, when watching Japanese stevedores load cars. They are fast, efficient, skilled, and they never make mistakes. It’s a science to them. Some highly intelligent short little scientist has recorded this stuff on video, studied it carefully while making all kinds of eyebrow movements, come to several clever conclusions, and written them all down in a manual. That manual has then been sent on review to other scientist who have agreed and disagreed, gotten agitated, called each other names, become quite angry at each other, but finally made up and decided that their friendship is more important than whether the stevedore waving the white flag should wear a pink or a green cap (even though the color contrast is clearly increased by no less than 12% in the latter. Clearly!). They have amended the manual further and made it even more perfect. Other scientists have continued this work for quite some time, centuries perhaps. Now, the stevedores follow this manual in every detail of their work and the result is astonishing. I want to live here.

I said earlier that we were taking the FRB, Fast Rescue Boat, out for a spin on Tokyo bay. It sounds sexy, doesn’t it? But in reality we have to ask the harbor master for permission to perform drills in port. And we got permission to use the boat not more than 20 meters from the ship. Even though we broke that rule slightly, it wasn’t exactly out on the Bay. But goddammit was it fun. That thing is such a joy to ride. It’s water jet propelled so there is no problem flooring it, 33 knots, and then shifting to full reverse. It stops on a dime. The steering in reverse on the other hand, is reversed, which messed with my head at first. But when you figure it out it’s so easy to steer.

We have three Koreans onboard with us fixing something in the engine room. One of them is named “Jinkuk”……This is all we ever talk about now. I suggested it was an old pirate medical term for unfortunate symptoms related to unsuccessful intercourse during heavy influence of alcohol. "Argh matey, tharr be no movement in the one-eyed pirate….me’ve come across the ol’ gincock from the wenchin’ and grogg, ay!"

The Sturgeon

I’m baptized. Even though I was expecting it to happen it caught me totally by surprise. I’m going down to have lunch, right, and security grab me just outside the galley, put shackles on me and my fellow heathens, escort us to the garbage room and lock us in. It’s 35 degrees in there and the smell is not all that pleasant. 5 minutes later a friendly face opens the door and delivers a case of beer. Oh thank you! Not quite. The case has been placed to simmer for 2 days close to the funnel so it’s even warmer. Have you ever tried 45 degrees warm beer? It tastes like sweaty sauna. 

Of course we drink it anyway.

One sharp engineer remembers the old “sock and water” trick where you place the beer in the sock and drench it with water. As the water evaporates it steals energy from the bottle thereby chilling it. Its freakin’ science, man! And it worked too. After only 15 minutes we had gone from warm beer to almost drinkable. And it got even easier after the first one.
Two hours later security comes again. They take only me. They snatch me away from my friends just when I need their support the most, and I am taken to a strange place I have never seen before. And there in front of me...as if magic...sits King and Queen Poseidon. 

The rest I cannot foreclose. Needless to say, I was educated and received the name Sturgeon. That’s the one they make Russian caviar from, baby! It’s all me.

Afterwards we had a big barbecue and I ate myself silly.

The mop

I’ll never again complain about cleaning my apartment. I’ll smile and do a little dance even, a little boogie. The standard for cleanliness in a vessel like this is high since the cargo is brand new cars most of the time. For me that means mopping. A hella lot of mopping. All day long. My apartment is 35 square meters. This ship has 60.000 square meters of cargo deck and we mop most of it. It’s the equivalent of cleaning my place 1714 times. And it’s not like the dirt on my floors either. At home I just use water and add some sweet lemony fresh floor cleaner goodness, swing the mop a bit and BAM, it’s sparkle city! But here the shit sticks! You gotta work it. And use motherfuckin mean chemicals. But I am not alone down there in the holds. There are 4 of us swinging mops.

We passed the equator this morning and are now back on the upper side of the planet. It still feels good to be upright again. Since this is my first crossing there will most likely be a baptism ceremony this weekend with a little humiliation and lots of laughs. One of the ABs have been commenting my haircut all week. He looks strange when he says it too. The eyes, they’re empty somehow. I don’t know what it means but I’m sure I will have lots to write about next week.

Next stop is Japan, Yokohama to be exact. Yokohama is right next to Kawasaki, which is more than just a motorcycle apparently! Who woulda thunk it? And Kawasaki, in turn, is right next to Tokyo. There will be lots of Japanese people there I’m sure.
Papa-san will come onboard then, the local duty free salesman. That’s not his name, by the way, that’s just what the guys call him. Because he is Japanese and, for it all to add up, someone’s father. At least we hope he will come onboard. Because of the…eh…incident. A haggling situation got out of hands when one of the ABs wanted to buy something for practically nothing and he would have nothing of it. Papa-san left the ship swearing never to return. We’ll see. I need to buy a watch. And a ninja sword obviously.